


Unfamiliar Familiarity

by Bamf_babe



Series: Into the Jaskierverse [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Dimension Travel, Fluff, M/M, Monster of the Week, basically Nightingale Julian meets Game Geralt and Ciri, it's a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26144986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamf_babe/pseuds/Bamf_babe
Summary: “Your full name,” Ciri began, “it wouldn’t happen to be Julian Pankratz would it?”Julian’s face fell. The cheer left and was replaced with trepidation and a slight fear.“How do you know that name?” He said, voice quiet.Ciri held up her hands, “This is going to sound strange but, well, we aren’t from this universe.”Julian’s face changed from worried to confused, “Another...universe?”...AKA: In their hunt to find their missing Jaskier, another version of Ciri and Geralt fall right into the lap of Julian and Renfri, on the trail of a dangerous mage. With Ciri and Geralt working alongside Jaskier and Renfri, can they try and find their Jaskier and make their way back home?Takes place between Chapter 6 and 7 of The Nightingale Prince
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Renfri | Shrike
Series: Into the Jaskierverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895545
Comments: 21
Kudos: 503





	Unfamiliar Familiarity

“Do we have everything?”

“Yes.”

“The Xenovoxes?”

“Yes.”

“Potions?”

“Yes.”

“Weapons.”

“Damnit Geralt,” Ciri said, gesturing to the sword at her side, “I think we are ready.”

He paced around the field outside Yennefer’s house in Vengerberg. Just a few nights ago, Jaskier had disappeared into a collapsed portal after the fight with whatever horrific abomination Stregobor had concocted. Geralt curled his lip at the reminder. Ciri had tried to simply portal away that night but the strain of her months in Stregobor’s hands had taken its toll and she needed time to recuperate. His daughter was exceptionally bold at times. 

Geralt shook his head, she was better now; a few days with Yennefer and just a touch of chaos, and Ciri was back in fighting shape. Now the two of them were preparing to travel into the multiverse to try and find where Jaskier had traveled to. There was no firm way of knowing but they had asked for Yennefer’s help in grounding the portal in their universe. 

This way, if they had to, they could always find their way back with Yen as their anchor. The mage had also enchanted a pair of xenovoxes for them to communicate with through transdimensional means. Yen stood just a ways off, watching him do the final check-ins with Ciri. He didn’t know what worlds they might face on the other side of this portal and Geralt wanted to be prepared for just about anything. 

Yennefer came up behind him and set a hand on his shoulder, “I believe that you have smothered Cirilla enough for the moment.”

She looked over to Ciri, her violet eyes piercing, and hugged her, “You can do this darling,” Yennefer said softly to Ciri, “bring him home okay?”

Ciri nodded, a few tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She blamed herself for Jaskier’s disappearance. Geralt knew it was unreasonable but nothing he said convinced her otherwise. He would just have to show her. Or better yet, find Jaskier and let the man tell her himself. 

Yen walked past Geralt to the edge of the portaling zone but stopped to look him in the eye and say, “In some instances, I will be able to scry and learn about the location you are in but not every time. You two will have to rely on your wits. Protect her, Geralt. If it’s a choice between him or her, you know who to choose.”

Then she was gone, leaving Geralt just a bit shaken, as it often was with Yennefer. For now, he couldn’t even consider the possibility that he might have to choose between Ciri and Jaskier. He didn’t like the implications of his choice. Yennefer was right, and the thought terrified him. If he had to choose between them, he would choose Ciri. 

He watched as Ciri began to open a portal. Unlike before, this was not wild magic so a spinning vortex of white mixed with some blue opened in front of them and stood there, slowly swirling. It looked almost like white fire. Ciri held the swallowtail pendant in her hand and looked back at Geralt. 

“You ready, old man?” she said. 

“Ready,” Geralt said and then Ciri stepped through the portal, Geralt just a half-step behind her. 

They landed in the woods, Geralt looking around. They weren’t in Kaedwen. The trees here were not the tall, bushy evergreens of the Blue Mountains but rather thin and wispy aspens. Fuck this must be somewhere in the central Continent. Ciri was already opening up the xenovox and speaking into it. 

“Any news, Yenna?”

For a moment, there was a crackling sound and then Yennefer’s voice came through, clear as a bell. 

“I am scrying right now, the xenovox is helping me to map your location.”

Geralt kicked at the ground, it was warmer here than it was back home, must be the middle of the summer. It was uncomfortable to be wearing full armor in the hot sun, but he had endured worse. There was a wind rustling through the trees that made the leaves create a rattling noise. Geralt turned his head, there was another sound too, something he couldn’t quite pick up just yet. He would have to be on his guard. Who knows what awaited them in this universe. 

“Any news?” He asked Ciri. 

She looked over at him and shook her head just in time for Yennefer’s voice to begin speaking once again. 

“It looks like you were right Ciri, your portals are not limited to simply transdimensional travel but also time travel as well.”

Geralt put his hand to his head. Great. They could literally be any _ where _ as well as any _ when _ .

“So where are we?” Ciri asked, her voice full of excitement.

“It looks like you are in Temeria.”

“Well at least we know Temeria relatively well,” Geralt said, “I haven’t been through the region properly but I remember it well enough.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Yennefer snapped, “You are in Temeria in 1229.”

Ciri gasped, “That is nearly 40 years ago!”

“Wonderful,” Geralt said, “Let’s hope we don’t run into anyone we know.”

“I know, we have a mission to complete,” Ciri said, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Ciri held up the swallowtail medallion and cupped her hands around it. From between her fingers, there was a blue glow for a moment before it settled down. 

“Jaskier was here,” Ciri said, “Somewhere nearby, within a day's walk at most. To the west.”

“What are we waiting for then?” Geralt said, beginning to turn west. 

“Thank you, Yenna, we will try and call again when we can.”

Ciri shut the xenovox and moved towards Geralt. They began to walk towards where Ciri had tracked Jaskier but Geralt suddenly stopped and held out a hand in front of Ciri. It was the sound from before, the one he couldn’t quite pick up. There was a snap of a branch behind him and he spun around, drawing his sword in one motion, leveling it at the throat of his would-be opponent. 

It was another Witcher. A man with brown hair thrown up in a haphazard ponytail and golden eyes looked back at him. He wasn’t wearing any armor, instead favoring a white shirt with brown pants and his swords slung at his hip. He had no medallion and for a Witcher, he didn’t have many scars, but those eyes were a clear indicator of his profession.

He heard Ciri draw her sword and point it at a second opponent but Geralt didn’t dare take his eyes off this man. There was something familiar in his features. 

“Can you please put the very sharp sword down?” The man said and Geralt started, that voice was unmistakable.

“Jaskier?” Geralt said, lowering his sword, then he looked over at the girl Ciri had pinned against a tree, sword to her throat. His breath caught. Renfri. She looked only a few years younger than at her death, still just a girl. He thought of the year. He supposed it made sense for her to be alive, but to be with a man who looked like Jaskier…

The man had moved a small distance away from Geralt after he had dropped his sword, “Apologies, but I’m afraid you must have the wrong man, my name is Julian and this is Renfri.”

Renfri suddenly kicked out her leg and hit Ciri solidly in the shin, Ciri backed off for just a second and Renfri took the opportunity to duck under Ciri’s arm and run to stand beside Julian. 

“It’s The Shrike to you two,” Renfri said hotly. 

Julian ruffled her hair, mussing it even further than it already was, “Really? Do you want to inform these possible enemies of our alter egos? What if they had been mages undercover or some other enemy you’ve made along the way?”

“Then they would have tried to fight us already.”

Ciri was looking over the two with an interested eye. She had heard Geralt talk of Renfri before and had quickly come to several conclusions based on his ashen face.

“Your full name,” Ciri began, “it wouldn’t happen to be Julian Pankratz would it?”

Julian’s face fell. The cheer left and was replaced with trepidation and a slight fear. 

“How do you know that name?” He said, voice quiet. 

Ciri held up her hands, “This is going to sound strange but, well, we aren’t from this universe.”

Julian’s face changed from worried to confused, “Another...universe?”

“This is going to sound strange,” Ciri said, “but have you seen a man that looks like you but with shorter hair and blue eyes? Or is there a place nearby with a high concentration of magic? Anywhere a natural portal might open up.”

Renfri didn’t say anything but Jaskier put a hand on his chin, “I haven’t seen any doppelganger but well,” he side-eyed Renfri, “I do know a place nearby with lots of magic. Give me one good reason I should buy this story.”

Ciri looked at Geralt. He shrugged. She threw her hands up, “I fear I don’t have any real way of proving it, I suppose I could open a portal…”

She moved her hands as if to open a portal but there was simply a flicker of white fire before it died out. Ciri snarled and tried again. It didn’t work. She pulled the xenovox out of her bag and opened it. 

“Yenna!” she said, “I can’t open a portal, is everything okay on your end?”

The box was silent for a moment and Julian and Renfri exchanged a pained glance. Then Yennefer’s voice crackled through again. 

“Why on earth would you try to open a portal so soon after the last one? Aren’t you exhausted?”

Geralt looked at Ciri closer and saw that she did look tired, there were bags under her eyes and she looks far less alert than normal. 

Ciri shook her head, “I needed to prove that we were from another dimension to some people who might be able to help us. I got a reading that Jaskier could be nearby.”

Geralt heard Yennefer sigh, “Listen, darling, if you try to use your own chaos to open a portal more often than perhaps once every two days or so you are going to exhaust yourself and your magic. Geralt are you there?”

“I’m here, Yen.”

“Oh thank the gods, listen Geralt, Ciri can’t try and portal more than once every two days. Watch her closely alright? You can use the pendant to portal if need be but it’s simply imbued with magic and has limited uses. I don’t know the full scope yet.”

Geralt nodded, then remembered that Yennefer couldn’t see his face and said out loud, “Will do.”

“Now if you two don’t mind, I was in the middle of the bath.”

Then Yennefer was gone and Ciri shut the box and turned back to Julian and Renfri. Ciri opened her mouth to say more but Julian beat her to it.

“I believe you,” he said. 

Ciri looked surprised, “What?”

“It seems a little pointless for you to fake that entire conversation, the worry in your tone. At the very least, you two both believe you are interdimensional travelers.”

Geralt looked Julian over, “Thank you,” he said and Julian smiled at him and Geralt had to try very hard not to see the similarities to Jaskier. 

“It’s no problem at all,” Julian said, “and if I understood that conversation right, you need to rest before you can continue. You can come back to camp with us-”

He was cut off from a jab in the ribs by Renfri. 

“What is it with you and inviting strangers into our lives?” Renfri said. 

Julian looked at her, “I didn’t hear that complaint with Deidre.”

Renfri’s face turned red and she looked away from Julian, “Nevermind.”

With a clap of his hands, Julian turned and began walking deeper into the woods, Renfri following him, “Well come on!” He cried out behind him, “I’m sure you both could use some food.”

Geralt did bring rations, but those were for emergencies and Julian seemed trustworthy enough. He moved to follow them, from a distance. 

Ciri pulled at his arm and he leaned down to hear her whisper in his ear, soft enough that Julian wouldn’t be able to pick it up, “Are you okay?”

Geralt felt his heart clench. He knew logically that they would be traveling to other universes but actually seeing it in action was a strange feeling. He had to look at Renfri, wondering if she would die in a few years by his hands. He had to look into a twisted version of his best friend and watch as no recognition lit up those yellow eyes. It was difficult, but he had to stay strong. Ciri was already trying to push away her worry for Julian and focus on the mission. He should do the same. It wouldn’t help him to become caught up in his own issues. 

“I will be fine,” he said to Ciri and moved away so she couldn’t say anything else. 

They were led to a small encampment with a fire in the center and some type of deer roasting in the coals. 

“We were hoping to dry out the deer and make some jerky to save,” Julian said at Geralt’s look. 

They were offered some berries, root vegetables, and meat. It was a very put together dinner for being on the road and Geralt mentally applauded the resourcefulness. 

While they were eating, Geralt tried not to stare at Renfri. She was so young. She couldn’t be older than sixteen or seventeen and it was strange, watching his biggest mistake staring him in the face, sitting next to a stranger wearing Jaskier’s face. She looked happier than she had been when he met her. Perhaps it was having someone to travel with. She had called herself The Shrike earlier so Geralt imagined her life hadn’t been too different. 

Renfri ate a strip of meat and looked over to Ciri, “Where are you from?”

Ciri looked at the younger girl, “Cintra, originally.”

“And now?” 

“Just about everywhere,” Ciri replied. 

Renfri smiled, seemingly warming up to them a bit more, “Same here.”

Julian set down a cup he had been drinking from, “Now that we are all a bit more settled, I would absolutely love to hear about this other dimension of yours, you called me Jaskier? Do I happen to have a doppelganger? And it appears that you are a wolf witcher, oh yes. I have a friend who’s a witcher. I don’t recognize you though. And goodness, I haven’t even gotten your names.”

Geralt took the flow of words in stride, it appeared that this strange version of Jaskier wasn’t too different in personality. 

The man smiled, “I’m sure you know my name already, but for poetic symmetry, I am Julian, The Nightingale!  Wherever I go, the  wind follows, and the  wind – smells like  rain.”

He dropped his voice lower at the end and made a serious face. Renfri smacked his head and said, “I’m Renfri, some call me the Shrike. Because, you know, I like to kill people and stab them through with their own swords.”

Geralt tried to keep his face expressionless. It was a difficult task. 

“My name is Geralt of Rivia.”

“Just call me Ciri.”

Julian looked over Geralt, “That name sounds familiar, I’m sure Eskel must have likely mentioned you at some point or another.”

Geralt felt his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“You know Eskel?”

Julian clapped his hands, “Ah, you are familiar with him?”

“He’s my brother.”

“That must be why your name sounds familiar. Eskel has been trying to get Renfri and me up to Kaer Morhen for years but well, we have a mission to complete here.”

Ciri looked at the sword still at Renfri’s hip even while eating, “And what mission might that be?”

Julian smirked, and for the first time, Geralt could see a hint of the ruthless training every Witcher went through, “Hunting down mages.”

“That’s convenient,” Ciri said, “So are we. In a way.”

“In a way, an interesting turn of phrase,” Julian said, “tell me more.”

Ciri opened her mouth, closed it, then looked at Geralt. He sighed and began to speak, “In our world, there is a version of you, Jaskier, he’s human and a bard and he...ended up in a collapsing portal courtesy of a mage and some abomination he’s cooked up.”

Julian leaned forward, “A bard?” He turned to Renfri, “Did you hear that? A bard! Did I have any famous songs?”

Geralt grumbled, “Just a few.”

Ciri laughed, “A few? Jaskier is one of the most famous bards on the continent. He became famous singing the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf.”

“Oh this is wonderful, I’ve always fancied myself quite a deft hand at the lute, but well, I’m a little busy now to be making a career out of it. Back in the day, I used to sing for the crowds; well, not that many of them lived to remember it, but I did enjoy the attention.”

Ciri exchanged a wary glance with Geralt at the casual mention of murder but elected to leave it for now. This man knew the most plausible location of their Jaskier.

“You mentioned high concentration areas of magic earlier,” Ciri said, “Where would that be.”

“We came to Temeria for a reason,” Julian said, “There is a mage about an hour's walk away in Rissberg, Sorel Degerlund. There’s been dozens of disappearances since he came into town. We are going to take care of him.”

“Permanently,” Renfri added. 

“How can you be sure he’s the cause of the disappearances?” Geralt asked. 

Julian shrugged, “We can’t. That’s why we are going there now, find some proof and take care of him in the likely event that it's true. Fuck knows the Brotherhood won’t.”

Geralt couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. He wondered at Ciri’s silence but then she let out a loud yawn and began to lean towards him just a little. 

He pushed at her shoulder, “I think you ought to go to bed. You’ve had a long day.”

Ciri nodded, “Sounds fair.” She took a pack out of her bag and laid it out on the ground a short distance from the fire, taking off only the bare minimum of her armor. She laid her head down and was asleep within moments, Geralt could hear her heartbeat slowing down. 

Julian shooed Renfri away as well and she sighed before also crawling onto a travel cot and curling up. Julian turned to Geralt. 

“I imagine you’d like some sleep as well?”

Geralt grunted and Julian sighed. 

“Here, let me help you with the armor, it’s a bitch to get off alone.”

“Fine,” Geralt acquiesced. 

Jaskier--damnit-- _ Julian  _ began to undo the buckles of his armor quickly and efficiently, clearly, the man was used to handling armor. Geralt wondered why he didn’t have any on himself. 

“I can tell you are close with, uh, Jaskier,” Julian said, “The way you looked at me when we met in the woods, I felt positively exposed.”

Geralt shrugged, “We’ve been close for nearly thirty years.”

Julian whistled, “With a human lifespan, that’s quite a number of years, very impressive.”

“He’s...he’s my best friend.”

“I’m glad, being a Witcher can be lonely, we seem to be solitary by nature,” Julian cast his eyes to the sleeping Cirilla and Renfri, “except well, the universe always seems to find a way to bring people into our paths. Is she your daughter?”

Geralt nodded, “I took her in when she was young. She would never tell you, but she’s the Heir to the Cintran throne.”

Julian let out a laugh but covered his mouth when Renfri stirred, “That’s...that’s actually rather funny. Renfri’s the heir to Creyden. Don’t tell me, your girl is also at the center of a prophecy and she has people after her head for it?”

“You aren’t far from the truth,” Geralt said. 

“Oh how destiny likes to draw parallels.”

“Destiny,” Geralt spat out and Julian smiled mockingly at him. 

“Not a fan?”

“Hardly.”

“Be careful, spitting on destiny is asking to be fucked over by her tender cock.”

Geralt looked over at Julian and tried not to superimpose Jaskier’s face onto the familiar smile. 

Julian saw him looking, “You mentioned blue eyes earlier, is that the only difference between us?”

Geralt tilted his head, “You have longer hair than him, but not by much.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing I recently shaved then. You know, it’s interesting a few decades back I was an assassin and, here-” Julian grabbed his pack and started rummaging through it, before pulling out a gold ring that looked familiar to Geralt. It was the ring Jaskier often wore, an octagon shape with some sort of crest stamped into it. Interesting. Geralt wondered where Julian got it from. 

The other Witcher slipped the ring on and then he was looking into a pair of blue eyes and suddenly Geralt was seeing Jaskier once again. 

“I suppose he must look a bit like this?” Julian said with Jaskier’s face and Jaskier’s voice. But no, it was Julian still. They might be the same man but this wasn’t his universe. The pain on Geralt’s face must have shown because Julian’s perpetual smile dropped and he took off the ring. 

“I’m sorry, was that too much? I didn’t want to panic you. I thought it was interesting, that’s all.”

“It’s fine,” Geralt got out, “It’s just a bit difficult.”

Julian gave Geralt a sympathetic look, “I’m sure it will be fine, your daughter said she sensed his presence yes? It’s just a matter of finding him. And with Renfri and me as a backup, you will have your bard back in your arms in no time. Best friends once more.”

Something must have shown in Geralt’s expression because Julian’s eyes widened, “Or possibly more than a best friend?”

Geralt looked away and while it might be difficult for Witchers to blush, he was certainly putting that to the test at this moment, “Nothing more, not now.”

“Ah,” Julian said, rocking back a bit on the log they were sitting on, he looked into the dying coals of the fire, “But you want it to be. I understand, I am quite the amazing devil, anyone with my face is a catch. And you seem like a decent sort. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

Geralt steadfastly did not look Jaskier’s twin in the face, “We have been traveling together for going on thirty years now, I wouldn’t want to ruin what we have.”

Julian laughed, “Geralt of Rivia,” he said, “if you are as obvious to Jaskier as you have been to me I can assure you that he is likely waiting for the same thing you are.”

Geralt said nothing but Julian continued, “When you find this bard of yours, sweep him into your arms and give him a kiss, would you? It’s rare enough us Witchers find a happy ending.”

Julian looked at Renfri, looked at the fire, and then moved his hands in a strange sign that looked a bit like an inverted Igni. The fire went out and Julian stood up, clapping Geralt on the back, “Get some sleep would you? We have a mage to hunt down a lover to find.”

“What-” Geralt started but Julian cut him off with a whisper. 

“Trade secret of the Griffins, Wolf,” he said, “We are masters of magic over there. Don’t go telling Eskel if you happen to run into him. I’ve been keeping that detail a secret for years now.”

Julian then untied his sword and laid down on the ground to sleep, Geralt looked around the camp for a moment before setting up his own place to rest and laying down to close his eyes. He hoped Jaskier would be in Rissberg. He didn’t know how many of these universes he could take. 

The next morning, Geralt was the second one to wake up. Ciri and Julian were still asleep. Renfri sat on a log, cleaning her sword. He put his armor on quickly and tried his best to ignore her. She had armor on, the same leather style as what she had worn in Blaviken. It was discomforting to Geralt and he tried not to meet Renfri’s eyes. 

She noticed this, the clever girl, and stood up, walking over to him. She was a bit shorter than she would be as an adult but not by much. 

“How do you know me?” Renfri said bluntly. 

“Why do you assume I know you?” Geralt replied.

“You spoke at length about this Jaskier of yours, you even mentioned his similarities to Julian. I listened to some of your conversations last night. You can get quite talkative when you want to. But for me? I was never mentioned once. And you can’t stand to look at me. And it isn’t a lack of recognition I see in your eyes, it’s guilt.”

Geralt looked away, “Interesting deductions.”

“Correct ones. Now tell me. No one else is awake.”

“You wouldn’t want to know.”

“If I say the word, Julian doesn’t help. If Julian doesn’t help you two are stuck facing an unknown mage and trying to find Jaskier. Talk, or you lose our support.”

She stared Geralt down and he felt the distinct feeling of being a bug caught in a trap. She had piercing eyes and he could see the leader many thought of her as. He didn’t know how different his Renfri had been from the one that stood before him. Geralt hadn’t been familiar enough. He had only known her well enough to kill her. 

He looked back over to the sleeping figures of Julian and Ciri. 

“Not here,” Geralt said, “How do you feel about some foraging?”

Renfri looked at them as well and nodded. They headed into the woods just a short way off of camp. 

They gathered some roots in silence, neither of them talking, Geralt not wanting Renfri to start asking questions. However, soon the silence became oppressive and Geralt remembered his promise. He stood up, dusting his hands on his pants. 

Geralt looked down at Renfri, “Have you heard of a mage named Stregobor?”

Renfri scowled, standing up, “That’s the miserable bastard Julian and I have been hunting down for years. He ruined my life.”

“Then you understand how he’s able to manipulate people.”

“All too well.”

“I was brought in by a mage named Irion for a contract. It ended up being Stregobor. I was told there was a criminal threatening the town. I tried to get her to back down. She didn’t. We fought. Only one of us left Blaviken that day.”

Geralt looked over to see the Renfri had paled, she took a step back but her balance was off and she tripped, Geralt instinctively caught her but cradling Renfri as she fell was too familiar to her dead body in his arms in Blaviken so he dropped her and stepped away. 

Renfri pressed herself up onto her elbows and there were frightened tears in the corners of her eyes, “I...I was that girl wasn’t I?”

“You were. But in my world, there is no Julian. I can’t imagine the same events would happen here.”

Renfri wiped angrily at her eyes, a self-deprecating note entering her voice as she stood up, “I wouldn’t say that, Geralt, destiny has a funny way of working out no matter the circumstance. Where did you say this happened?”

Geralt looked at Renfri and they began walking back to the camp, “Blaviken. Listen, when you are given a choice. Just leave Blaviken. There is nothing for you there. Please,” he was begging her. He couldn’t save her before but maybe he could help her here. 

Renfri stopped and looked him in the eyes, “I promise Geralt, if it comes to it, I will leave Blaviken.”

Those words released a weight Geralt hadn’t even known he had been carrying. His past sins weren’t erased but there was a feeling of release he had never felt before. For the first time in his life, he considered that maybe Blaviken was finally moving behind him, after all these years. 

When they arrived back at camp, Julian was dressed in black armor. I was dark and had subtle leaf patterns on it. There was a hood pulled down around his neck and he had two swords strapped to his back. Geralt will freely admit it was a far more intimidating look than the day before. 

Ciri was stretching and warming up for the day. She and Julian seemed to be having a back and forth discussion as they each got ready. When the two of them walked back into camp Julian smiled. 

“There you two are!”

Geralt set the roots down, grabbing a cloth to wrap them in for now. 

Ciri came over to Geralt, sheathing her sword, “While you were out dealing with your past,” she said, “I was getting information about our future.”

“What did you find out?”

“According to Julian, Sorel Degerlund is an apprentice to a Mage, Ortolan. They conduct genetic experiments and mutations on animals, creating chimera-like creatures. Apparently, most of the Rissberg laboratories are nothing, just bloated mages hiding away. But there are rumors Julian has heard about Sorel from some Elven friends. This week, Sorel is the only one left at Rissberg, the other mages have gone to a meeting at Ban Ard. This is the perfect time to strike.”

Geralt looked down at Ciri, “Are you sure we should strike? How do we know that this man is guilty of anything.”

“I believe Julian.”

“You don’t even know him!” Geralt said, throwing up his hands.

“And you do?” Ciri said, “Get a little close to him last night did we?”

Geralt pointed his finger at her, aware that Julian and Renfri had both turned their attention to them, “Don’t say that, you can’t blindly trust someone just because they look like Jaskier. Don’t be fooled again.”

He winced. Fuck. He had gone too far. Ciri angrily turned away and began walking.

“That’s not fair and you know it,” she said to Geralt. 

Julian began walking as well, swinging his pack onto his shoulder. It didn’t appear large enough to carry that armor he was wearing. Geralt wondered if the bag was enchanted. He sighed. That comment about Jaskier had been too far. Ciri was still recovering from Stregobor’s torture. He knew she took too much on her shoulders. But she was walking with Julian towards Rissberg and steadfastly refused to look at him. 

Geralt and Renfri walked toward just a few steps behind Julian who was talking to Renfri about his music. Geralt noticed for the first time there was a lute case attached to his pack, a bit haphazardly. 

Julian swung the case around and opened it, pulling out a lute.

“So, you remember the song enough?” he was saying, “You know, I have to replace my lute fairly often, I lose them or break them regularly so this isn’t the best quality. I keep my nicest lute with Filavandrel.”

Geralt desperately wanted to ask more about that comment. What was Julian doing being close enough with the King of the Elves to keep his lute with him? He had believed that Filavandrel hadn’t been close to anyone who wasn’t an elf in decades. How had a Witcher managed to get close? But this was not the right time and he honestly doubted it might ever be. Perhaps if Geralt was the more curious sort like Jaskier he might ask, but he would rather focus on his end goal than flights of fancy at the moment.

Ciri waved her hand, “It’s fine,” she said, “I’m just happy to introduce this song to your universe.”

“Alright, so how does it go again?”

“When a humble bard…” Ciri sang and Julian copied, playing a chord that matched her tone. 

Geralt watched as Ciri taught Julian that dratted song and he tried to copy it to the best of his abilities. Even with Ciri’s directions it still didn’t sound quite right, the strumming pattern was off and Ciri didn’t know enough about the music to correct it, but it was close and seemed in the same key as the original. 

It actually hurt Geralt, just a bit, to listen to Jaskier--fuck, no-- Julian sing that song when the real Jaskier simply wasn’t fucking here. Geralt was sure Jaskier managing a duet with himself was one of his lifelong dreams. 

“Toss a coin to your Witcher!” Julian sang and Geralt felt his heart break just a little bit more. Ciri must have seen his expression because she fell back to walk in line with Geralt. As if sensing the change in tone, Renfri moved up to Julian who was still singing. 

“That may have been in poor taste,” Ciri said, “but he’s my best friend too, you know? I might not be in love with him but you can’t just take it out on me. We are both suffering here.”

Geralt ran a hand down his face and grimaced, “I know Ciri, I know. I’m trying to be...understanding but it’s difficult. This is all very strange. I don’t have experience with the multiverse like you do.”

Ciri laughed, “I don’t have very much either. A few portals here and there don’t help much when confronted with a version of your friend who is a Witcher. Are we ever going to talk about how strange that is?”

“It is certainly odd.”

“Odd?” Ciri said, “Hey Julian!”

Julian turned around, “What?”

“Cast an Igni for us would you?”

Julian put the lute back in the case and shooed Renfri away, at Ciri’s questioning look he said, “Renfri has a sort of, well, anti-magic aura, I can’t cast within about fifteen feet of her.”

He moved his hand and fire hovered above it. It was a more blatant display of magic than last night and Geralt did not like it at all. It felt distinctly wrong to watch Jaskier’s face with yellow eyes and a Witcher’s magic. The music only pushed the boundary between Jaskier and Julian thinner. He hoped they could leave soon. 

They reached the small town of Rissberg where the mages’ castle was and Geralt looked around the town, unfamiliar with the city in-between Temeria and Cidaris. It was a mountain town, the thin air made it difficult to breathe and Geralt was grateful in that moment for his mutations. Rissberg looked neither menacing nor impressive. There it was, a small castle, like many others, of average size, elegantly built into the mountain’s steep sides, hugging a cliff, its bright wall contrasting with the evergreen of a spruce forest, the tiles of two quadrangular towers—one tall, the other lower—overlooking the treetops. The wall surrounding the castle wasn’t—as it transpired from close up—too tall and wasn’t topped by battlements, while the small towers positioned at the corners and over the gatehouse were more decorative than defensive.

The flat hilltop beneath the curtain of the wall was occupied by a small town built of timber, reeds, and straw; an entire complex of large and small buildings and thatch roofs surrounded by a fence and enclosures for horses and livestock. There was a hubbub and people moved around briskly, like at a market or a fair. Julian pushed his way through the crowd, the people parting without hesitation at the two heavily armoured men walking through. It was a bazaar, an open market; except neither poultry, fish nor vegetables were traded there. The goods on sale below the castle were magic—amulets, talismans, elixirs, opiates, philtres, decocts, extracts, distillates, concoctions, incense, syrups and scents, powders and ointments, as well as various practical enchanted objects, tools, domestic equipment, decorations, and even children’s toys. The whole assortment attracted purchasers in great numbers. There was demand, there was supply—and business was clearly flourishing.

Geralt sneered as they walked through it. Not a single useful item; rather, mostly all luxury goods. 

Julian, hood up, walked over to a vendor, “We are looking for a mage,” he said, all traces of levity gone from his voice. 

The merchant looked scared, “They all left,” he said, voice shaky. Geralt frowned, Julian was purposefully intimidating this man. 

“I have it on good authority that Sorel Degerlund remains in the castle,” he said. 

The man looked around for help and when he saw that none was forthcoming he sank a little into his stall, “He left the castle last night, there’s been rumors…”

“What kind of rumors?”

“Rumors of Goetia.” The merchant said and Julian let go of his shirt, moving back in shock.

“That’s been outlawed for years,” Julian said and Geralt nodded behind him. He had dealt with a few demons over the years. Goetia was the art of summoning demons and it was pleasing to know the rules were similar in this universe as well. If Sorel had summoned a demon, well, there would be literal hell to pay. 

“There was a massacre in the plains last night, just behind the castle,” the merchant said and Julian turned away. 

“Did you see Sorel come back?”

“No.”

Julian began to walk away and Renfri followed. 

“We need to split up,” she said. Julian shook his head. 

“No.”

“We have to and you know it. Someone has to check the castle, and the other the plains.”

Julian looked at Geralt and Ciri, weighing his options. 

“Geralt, Renfri, go out to the plains and look for him. Ciri and I will go into the castle, does that sound agreeable?”

Geralt considered the plan in his head, clearly Julian considered the plains less dangerous than the castle and wanted Geralt to go along to protect Renfri. It was a fair choice and he nodded. 

Julian and he exchanged eye contact for a moment and there was a mutual agreement that they would protect each other’s charges. Geralt began to walk around the castle with Renfri while Julian and Ciri began to walk to the bridge connecting the castle to the road. 

As Geralt walked he heard people whispering about the Nightingale and the Shrike coming to town. An interesting epithet if it was Julian’s title. Jaskier himself had won the title of the Nightingale Prince at a singing competition years ago. He wondered how Julian gained it here. The more differences he found between the two men, the more things seemed to stay the same. 

It was interesting to interact with a version of Jaskier so entirely removed from his own. This version had never met him, in fact, they were currently years before they had ever met when he was a human bard. Julian had met Eskel but had never been to Kaer Morhen. Julian was more, well, settled than Jaskier for a lack of better words. Julian had been forced into positions of leadership and wasn’t used to, or didn’t know, how to take direction. Julian didn’t need him and part of that broke Geralt’s heart. At the very least, it stopped him from getting too attached to the man. For now, they were different people working towards the same goal. 

Geralt and Renfri walked towards a small hut that stood at the top of a hill behind the palace. He smelled the corpses before he saw them. He glanced at Renfri but decided that she had likely seen worse and it was better to be prepared than scared. 

The first corpse did not have a head or feet, just beside a charcoal kiln outside the hut; blood spurting over the soil covering the mound. Not far away lay three more bodies, unrecognizably mutilated. Blood had soaked into the absorbent forest sand, leaving darkening patches. The smell was nearly overwhelming and Geralt had to fight the urge to cover his nose.

Two more bodies were lying nearer to the center of the clearing and the campfire encircled by stones. The man’s throat had been torn out so savagely his cervical vertebrae were visible. The upper part of the woman’s body was lying in the embers of the fire, smeared in groats from an upturned cooking pot. 

The next body nearly made Geralt go and get Julian and Ciri for backup. A little further away, by a woodpile, lay a child; a little boy, of perhaps five years old. He had been rent in two. Somebody—or rather something—had seized him by both legs and torn them apart. He imagined this must be the work of Goetia. No human could commit these acts. This was monstrous. 

Geralt saw the final body; this one had been disemboweled and its guts pulled out to their full length, or about two yards of the large bowel and over six of the small. The guts were stretched in a straight, shiny, greyish-pink line all the way to a shack of pine branches into which they vanished. 

Renfri didn’t look phased and for that Geralt was grateful. He went towards the hut and opened the door. He expected more bodies to be inside but instead he was looking at a squalid room in which there was a bent-over man in the center. He was covered in blood, shaking, and he was muttering to himself. He had a human intestine wrapped around his hand from the corpse outside and when he looked up at Geralt his eyes looked completely vacant. Geralt grunted, these were signs of demonic possession. It appeared the man had used Goetia. 

Unfortunately, this meant he couldn’t kill him yet. They would have to get the man to track down the demon he had summoned and exorcise it. This was not ideal. Geralt heard the swing of a sword and pulled his sword out in just enough time to catch Renfri’s before it decapitated the man on the floor. 

“What are you doing?” She said, “You saw what he did out there!”

She held up her sword and Geralt hated this, he couldn’t do this again. He would not cross swords with Renfri once more. She charged at him, She thrusts and he ducks to the left before swinging back around himself. Renfri catches his blade and their dance begins. 

Geralt can’t focus. This is too familiar. Sorel, the mage, is sitting on the ground, still not moving, muttering to himself. Geralt feels himself moving to the steps of dance he did years ago when he was a different man. 

“Don’t do this Renfri,” he said, “We have to keep Sorel alive to find the demon.”

He manages to push her up against a wall, sword at her throat. His heart is in his chest, this is far too familiar. 

“What we have to do to kill him now before he kills anyone else as he did outside!” She yells, young and impetuous, “We can take care of the demon ourselves!”

Geralt knows that he could continue fighting. But he’s tired. He can’t do this again. He has a chance now to change his past, metaphorically speaking. He’s going to take it. Renfri might not be willing to give up or leave but he is. He stops moving, tilting his blade down. 

“Very well,” he says, and Renfri stops, looking at him in confusion. She clearly hadn’t expected his agreement. But Geralt can’t go through this again. Of course, trying to find the demon and exorcising it without the help of the original caster will be practically impossible but it’s worth it. 

Geralt can’t imagine having to explain to Jaskie- fuck, to Julian’s face that he killed Renfri, can’t imagine having to cradle her bloody body, years too young in his arms again. Easier to let her kill, to let her take her revenge. She deserves it after all these years wasting away in his memories. 

Renfri moves towards Sorel but as she raises her sword he stopped muttering and stood up, his face no longer vacant but all too cruel.

“Damn, and here I was thinking you’d take care of each other,” he said.

The mage threw a potion to the ground and it exploded, releasing a gas that filled up the room quickly, entering their lungs and fogging their minds, and dropped Renfri and Geralt to the floor.

He wakes up tied to a stone slab and looks over to see Renfri tied down to an identical slab next to him. Damnnit. That skinny fucking twerp of a mage got the drop on both of them. He recognizes the sandy stone of the room they are in. They are in Rissberg castle. Who knows how Sorel got them in here without running into Ciri and Julian, but the other two were somewhere in the castle. It was just a matter of time before they found Geralt and Renfri. 

Renfri was already awake and spitting furious curses at the mage. 

“I will get out of here,” she was saying, “and I will strip every piece of skin from your worthless hide and tear it to ribbons. I will keep you alive long enough to feed your own flesh through to your rotten mouth and when you shit it out you will eat it once more.”

The mage laughed, his long hair unkempt around his face. Were it not for the gore on his fine clothes, Geralt would have considered the man attractive. 

“What a mouth on you,” Sorel said, his mouth a twisting sneer, “And here I thought the Witcher would be the problem.”

He walked over to Geralt, “Finally, the Nightingale, here at least in my humble laboratory. It was adorable that you bought the demon rumors. I’ve been killing all those people myself, quite ingenious and artistic if you don’t mind me bragging.”

Geralt grimaced. Of course, the Shrike traveling with a Witcher. Sorel must have assumed he was Nightingale-- Julian--whatever name he went by. Fantastic. 

“I must say,” Sorel said, “You look nothing like the descriptions of you, but of course every description has you wearing a mask and hood. I see why. The white hair attracts quite a bit of attention.”

Sorel leaned forward and grabbed the wolf medallion, pulling it just an inch off Geralt’s chest before letting it go, “And wearing the medallion of your school no less. I didn’t know the famous Nightingale was a Wolf. I heard there are a few still alive up there, maybe I should go pay them a visit.”

Geralt felt his heart stutter. Fuck. If he had unintentionally doomed this universe’s counterparts of his family he would never forgive himself. For all he knew, he had just doomed himself. He was sure there was a Geralt of Rivia wandering the Continent currently, and he had just fucked himself over by allowing this mage to live for one second more then he ought to have lived. 

The mage grinned down at Geralt and he was struck by the awful stench the man had. It was putrid and brought to mind the feeling of rotting fruit, too late to eat and not ready for fermentation, simply rotten and useless. 

“Now, there is the matter of your death. Sadly, this is where the Nightingale’s tale ends once and for all. I’ve heard that Stregobor would prefer you alive but, well, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. The Shrike I will save for him though, I’m sure he has all sorts of lovely plans for her.”

Geralt pulled against the restraints, “You stay away from her!” He yelled but Sorel just laughed again and pushed a syringe into Geralt’s neck. 

Immediately he arched in pain. Fuck. It felt like the trials all over again. His limbs seized up and he felt an intense agonizing pain flood through his body. He couldn’t move or scream but it was all his body wanted to do at the moment. His heartbeat began to speed up and his vision blurred. 

“Fuck you!” Renfri was yelling, “Fuck you and fuck your ancestors, may you all rot in the fucking hell you came from!”

Geralt couldn’t see or think about much at this point, his brain overcome with the pain of fighting off the poison. 

He heard the door break open and heard Ciri gasp. She tried to cast a spell and cursed when it didn’t work, sending a brief glare at Renfri. Julian entered behind her, sword already drawn and charged for the mage. 

Sorel threw a few more of his potions to the ground, causing explosions left and right. He wasn’t using spells and had clearly been practicing avoiding Renfri’s aura. 

Ciri rushed to Geralt’s side and pulled out a dagger to cut through the heavy leather straps. He was still paralyzed once she freed him and Ciri looked at him concerned. 

“Oh no,” she said and then dug into her bag and pulled out a bottle of Golden Oriole, tipping it into Geralt’s mouth.Feeling rushed back into his appendages, pushing out the burn of the poison, and the pain receded. 

“Thank you,” he said, shaking his limbs experimentally, “What took you two so long?”

Ciri shook her head, “I tracked down Jaskier’s signature. He was here but not for long, he’s gone already, might have only appeared here for a second between dimensions, we aren’t in the right place.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry, we take care of this and I have enough magic to portal out of here soon. We can keep searching.”

Geralt nodded, this would work, this had to work.

He turned back to the fight between Julian and Sorel and Julian seemed to be gaining the upper hand. He clearly had experience fighting mages. 

“Ciri, go free Renfri,” Geralt said, picking up his swords from a nearby laboratory table, “I’ll help Julian.”

She gave him a little smile and a cheeky salute, “Got it, captain,” she said before moving to where Renfri was pushing furiously against her restraints. 

Geralt turned to help Julian and waited for an opening where he could be useful. He managed to catch Julian’s eyes and nod and as Julian ducked down, Geralt swung his sword in a wide arc, catching the mage in the torso. The mage stopped, falling back a bit, and Julian gave him even less than a second to catch his bearing. 

Within seconds, Sorel’s head was relieved of his shoulders, tumbling to the floor with a heavy thump. 

Renfri came up next to Geralt, rubbing her wrists. 

“Good, another mage gone,” she said. 

Julian nodded, “A little more difficult than most of our kills,” he said, “but overall a success.”

“Did you find anything useful?” Renfri asked.

“The Jaskier our travelers are looking for isn’t here,” Julian said, “but I did see a letter to Sorel from Stregobor, he’s hiding out in Poviss. That’s where we have to head to next.”

“And the week I turn seventeen to boot.”

“I know, little bird,” Julian said, bringing his arm around Renfri’s shoulder, “You always get the best birthday presents.”

Ciri and Geralt looked at Renfri and Julian. They all knew what this meant. Jaskier wasn’t here, none of them were in immediate danger and Renfri and Julian had a heading for their next quest. This would be goodbye. 

Ciri, always headstrong, tried to start first, “You have both been wonderful, but we have to-”

“Go?” Julian finished with a smile, “I figured.”

“It’s been nice meeting  _ you _ ,” Renfri said, an emphasis on you as she looked at Ciri. But the smile she sent Geralt’s way made him feel a bit better. 

Ciri smiled and began to move her hands, the white and blue portal appearing in front of them. 

Geralt held out a hand to Julian, “Thank you for helping us as you did,” he said rather stiffly. 

Julian rolled his eyes and pulled Geralt in for a fierce and passionate kiss. Ciri giggled before stepping through the portal. 

Geralt pulled back from Julian with a surprised look on his face. 

“When you see that bard of yours,” Julian said, “please give him one of those for me.”

Geralt nodded and Julian laughed before pushing him through the portal. Everything else was lost in the haze of white and blue. 

* * *

Julian and Renfri suddenly shook their heads and looked around the empty laboratory in Rissberg. Julian put his head to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Julian!” Renfri cried out, “there’s the mage!”

He looked over and there was Sorel Degerlund, lying decapitated on the floor. With a glance at the blood on his sword he determined he was the one to slay him. There were two stone tables with straps on them. Thinking hard, Julian could remember seeing Renfri on one of the tables, but anything more and it became fuzzy. 

In fact, trying to think about anything that had occurred over the past two days was difficult. He and Renfri had entered Rissberg and split up...why would they split up, they had no one to guard their backs. Renfri had been taken...but then who was on the other table?

“Can you remember the past two days?” He asked Renfri.

She shook her head, “Not clearly, do you think something happened when we killed Degerlund?”

“Perhaps there was a backlash of magic.”

“Maybe.”

Julian put his sword away, already dreading cleaning the blood off of it. The scabbard was slowly getting ruined. He thought hard and remembered something. 

“There was a letter!” He said, vaguely remembering finding it in a side room.

“From who?”

“From Stregobor to Sorel. Stregobor said he was hiding out in Poviss, I think I know where he might be.”

Renfri looked over to Julian, “Where might that be?”

Julian sighed, he hadn’t been back to Kaer Seren in years but it was likely that Streogobor had begun hiding out there, “I think it’s time I bring you to my first home.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was super fun to write and I LOVED IT SO MUCH. This is going to be a very exciting series with lots of authors out and about in it. Very cool stuff and very excited. I referenced a line from Into the Spiderverse here, let me know if u can find it (hint it's from Spider-noir) and I also used some pieces from Season of Storms because Sorel is such a bastard in that book!!!
> 
> And YES I will be updating Nightingale again soon!!


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